Dreaming
by Kiko-tan
Summary: Ken always knew his stupid sentimentalities would drive him to ruin. So when they threaten to do just that, all he can do is try to hold himself together. AyaxKen


I started out poking fun at Ken's outfit. I ended with yaoi.  
I wonder what that says about me…

His knees grinding against the side of the tub, Ken grunted as he thrust his wrist back and forth in a barrage of soap against the fabric. The nasty stain had spread onto the sponge without disappearing from the fabric. Ken frowned as tightened his hold on the sweatshirt and tried to scrub harder.

It didn't help. Ken rinsed it before shaking it off and sighing at the stain that still remained. It was a sad way to strain his muscles and it didn't seem to be helping anyway. He threw it into a lonely, dripping heap on the bathroom floor. It was worn, stained, and Ken didn't want to get rid of the darned thing.

He'd stopped letting Omi wash it in the machine when holes began to appear after every wash. Problem one had been averted. But slicing into enemy eyeballs usually got a little messy and he'd found an entirely new problem when that came into play.

Ken cursed, stuffing the thing into a bag. He'd always been a little too sentimental for his own tastes. He'd beat himself up at night for the thoughts of Kase that still came to mind despite it all, or the images of the smiling children who so openly shared their affection with their starry eyes. It was astonishing how he could still feel that way after all that he had done; he always thought it would ease up, but it never did. Sometimes, he'd let himself be proud of not throwing away his humanity for a brief instance before the shadows of loneliness crept back in, because after all, he could never be a normal human again.

Ken was confronted with a mixture of pain and anger. In the form of Yohji's face two inches from his. Ken shrieked, falling a few steps back.

"Wanna give a warning the next time you want to have a spa day?" Yohji spat, shoving Ken out of the way. "Jeez, I've been knocking for twenty minutes."

Ken had no retort, and instead pursed his lips in annoyance when Yohji began to unzip his trousers. He tightened his grip on the plastic bag and turned to leave. He watched only his feet move forward, the instinctive direction leading him back to his room. Careful steps followed, as if he were afraid to topple over.

Ken pressed his back against the door until it shut. "This is stupid," he growled, throwing the wet plastic bag next to his dresser and resolving not to lay an eye on it for the rest of the night. He began to tear off the clothes that were wet from his battle with the bath tub, throwing each piece down in annoyance. The slopping sounds that accompanied this only seemed to annoy him all the more.

It was a silly idea placed in his own head by and for himself. Some orange thread hanging around his waist didn't give him luck. But somehow, if he was still in one piece at the end of the day, he put it down to luck. Ken always had his good luck piece. It wasn't like he needed it otherwise; his jacket was enough to keep him warm.

That thing was a goner. That was that.

Ken buried his face into his arms, hooking his teeth onto his lip. He was _not_ going to tear up over a stupid sweatshirt.

_**XXXXX**_

Blood, sweat, something else; whatever it was, something crawled down Ken's ear. He could see nothing and hear nothing but his own ragged breath, yet he knew that someone was standing over him. He let himself drown in that sound. He didn't want to listen to the other man anymore.

"Tell me!"

Ken winced as another explosion of pain went up his leg. He could no longer do so much as wipe the mud from his face. He could do nothing but wait.

Omi'd had the sense to slip away when he got the chance. Ken had been too headstrong, too anxious to get in the enemy's face to notice the same opportunity. He hadn't thought, only pushed forward, and all he had to show for it were some crushed limbs.

It was hopeless, but as long as he didn't say anything, he wasn't doing anything wrong. So he didn't care. Ken went limp and waited, still clutching the scraps of what had once been his shirt in the hand that seemed frozen in place. He waited until he would no longer have his thoughts to torture him, or his friends to worry about. He waited for nothing to be left.

_**XXXXX**_

But what if someone needed it? Wasn't that how it always worked—once something was gone, that's when it became the most important thing in the world?

In some ways, perhaps it already had been. What stupid thoughts had led to him needing that thing? Of all the stupid things to pick as a security blanket. But he knew the answer to that: it was the only piece of Aya he would ever have.

The tears gathered in his eyes. Ken let go of his lip with a huff and stopped resisting. The world wasn't ending, but he would feel too light going on a mission without it and it would take a while to get used to not having in around. If he lost confidence or if he thought about it too much, it would be bad, so he just couldn't. And if that took some pointless moping in his bed for a night, then that was what it took. He didn't need his dignity anyway, as long as he could get through the next day.

Ken's breath caught in his throat when he heard the click of his doorknob. He shut his eyes against his skin, trying to blink away the tears so he could pretend to merely be asleep. This proved to be pointless as his body worked against him, his arm damp with tears.

The person said nothing as they approached. Ken lifted his head for a moment, catching a blur of red. He dropped his head back into his arms. "Is there a mission or did you just want to bitch at me? 'Cause you don't need to." Aya wasn't one to butt in on other people's business, but he was one to have an opinion about everything. Ken already knew he was being pathetic and he was trying to handle it. Why did he need to be bothered?

Aya shook his head, despite the fact that Ken wasn't looking his way.

Ken appeared to be wrong on both accounts when Aya gave no admonishment, nor orders. "What do you want, Aya?" When he looked again, Aya was wordlessly kneeling next to his bed. Ken froze, choking on a sob. "Aya," he gasped, failing to clear the blockage in his throat. His eyes blurred further with the effort to meet Aya's. "I…"

Aya shushed him. "I know."

_**XXXXX**_

_"Ken!"_

Ken cringed, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the light. Once they did, he found bright blues staring back at him.

"Ken! You're awake!"

Before Ken could register what was going on, Omi's arms were around his neck, blond hair rubbing against his cheek. He found he couldn't return the hug, his every body part weighted down.

Omi smiled at him tearfully. "I'm so sorry," he said, the smile disappearing from his lips. "I didn't mean to leave you behind. I couldn't… figure out a way to get us both out."

Ken clenched his teeth as Omi sobbed and he could do nothing about it.

"You're alright," Omi said, moving a piece of hair out of Ken's eyes. "You'll be out of commission for a little while, but you've got the best physical therapist on your case. You'll be better in no time." Omi gave a half-hearted wink, his frown returning. "But you have to promise me something." Omi took a deep breath before he held Ken's chin to look at him straight on. "You can't give up. Not ever again. It's no good unless we all make our best efforts. That way, we won't have any regrets."

Omi was silent for a moment as he seemed to consider what to say next. "Even if we're… us. We're here because… at least, we don't think the world would be better without us, right? So you can't do that anymore. We both failed this time, though, so I'll forgive you just this once."

Ken didn't think he could speak had he the confidence in his ability to move that much. His first response was anger. He'd gotten himself hurt because he _hadn't_ given up, even when he'd been alone, even when he knew nobody was coming for him. But he knew inside that he had, _because_ he was alone and because nobody else would be in danger. Because he'd been too stupid to allow himself not to screw up.

Omi was a smart kid. He was too smart not to know what had happened. Which also meant that Omi was probably right, as much as he didn't want to admit it. Ken closed his eyes, releasing a slow breath. He would have to thank Omi later, when he thought it wouldn't kill him.

A warm hand wrapped around his.

"You looked a lot worse when we found you," Omi said quietly, his eyes and grip steady. "You looked so… mangled. And you were shaking like a leaf. I'm so glad it's not as bad as I'd thought… so glad…" Omi was quiet for a moment as he regained his breath. "You know, we'd all come in a hurry and Aya carried you _all_ the way to the hospital. I don't think he trusted either of us to," he said with a small laugh. "I wonder if you can remember any of that, being held against his chest the _whole_ time. It's only fair to get one good memory out of all this."

Imagined or not, Ken felt a rush of embarrassment. He got that Omi was trying to cheer him up, but… Why did Omi have to know everything? He would have to kill Omi later, when he thought it wouldn't kill him.

When Ken was more awake and more able, he recognized Aya's orange sweatshirt draped over the bed with his torn up pants, which had both been cleaned. When he'd arrived home, Aya had found a new thick orange thread to protect his modesty and much as he knew he should have, Ken never got up the courage to return the sweatshirt, nor had Aya approached him. After having to rush to a mission while pondering what to do with it, it had ended up around his waist and had found a place there ever since.

For a while, at least.

_**XXXXX**_

Ken lunged at the redhead, pressing his face into the man's neck. All he wanted was an answer: was it that Aya couldn't return his feelings because they were just friends or wouldn't because they were Weiss? And yet, Ken feared that either answer would destroy him, so he said nothing as he held onto the one that mattered the most to him for what would likely be the last time.

When Aya's hands clamped onto his shoulders, he relinquished all of his strength.

When Aya whispered his name, he said nothing so as to imprint it into his memory.

When Aya caressed his hair, he tightened his hold, but didn't fight the call of sleep, because he was already being so selfish.

When Ken woke the next morning, only one thing remained of Aya to remind him that Aya had really been there. It was a snot-filled handkerchief. Ken took it; since it had been left on the ground where it had been the night before, he knew Aya didn't care. He carried it with him and tried to be more cheerful.

Somehow, he felt more confident when he went to play with the kids and knew he had it there just in case. He'd never had the insight to bother carrying one before. It was there in case someone got hurt or spilled on or whatever else might happen.

Sure, Ken knew it didn't give him luck. It was a piece of cloth. But he was also an idiot, and idiots thrived off of small things.

So he could dream.


End file.
